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THE WAY 



TO HIS POCKET 



\V< ■ 




COPYRIGHT, 1889, BY WALTER H. BAKER & CO. 



Baker's Edition of Plays 



ARRANUED BY NUMBE>R OF- CHARACTERS, MALE AND FEMALE. 

FURTHER PARTICULARS IN REGULAR LIST. 

PRICE GIVEN AFTER EACH PLAY. 

Inhere a play is' known under two titles, both are given as separate play*, in 

this list only. 



Two Characters. —One Male, one Female. 

An Original Idea . . 15 

Three Characters. — Two Males, One Female. 

Box and Cox .... 15 I Mary Moo 15 I Silent Woman . , . 13 

Unprotected Female . 15 1 . % | Which Shall 1 Marry? 15 

One Male, Two Females. 

Apples 15 | Two Flats and a Sharp 15 | Which will Have Him? 15 

Four Characters. — Two Males, Two Females. 



Bouquet . . . 
Give a Dog, etc. 
Match Makers . 
Personal Matter 



Bombastes Furioso 



Census Taker ... 15 Fairy's Father 

Mr. Joffin's Latchkey 15 Madam is Abed 

None so Deaf as those Putkins . 

who Won't Hear . 15 

Three Males, One Female. 
| The Tempter .... 15 | Sailor's Return 



Five Characters. 



Anonymous Kiss . 
Cousin Tom . . . 
Done on Both Sides 
Sylvia's Soldier . . 
Ugly Customer . . 
Blue and Cherry . 



Kiss in the Dark 



Three Males, Two Females. 

15 

15 

15 



15 Doubtful Victory • . 

15 My Son Diana . 

15 Two Buzzards . . . 

15 Appearances are De- 

15 ceitful 15 

15 Don't Judge by Ap- 
pearances . . . . 15 | 

Two Males, Three Females. 



15 



15 



Under a Veil . . 
Nature and Philosophy 15 
To Oblige Benson . . 15 
Welsh Girl . . ,. . 15 
The Youth who Never 
Saw a Woman' . . 15 



15 



My Husband's Secret 
Phantom Breakfast . 



Poor Pillicoddy 



Four Males, One Female. 
Only a Clod .... 15 I Two Heads are Better 

I than One .... 15 i 

Six Characters. — One Male, Five Females, 

The Only Young Man in Town 30 

Three Males, Three Females. 



Trumpeter's Daughter 15 



Aunt Charlotte's Maid 15 I My Sister's Husband . 15 

Always Intended . . 15 Never Say Die ... 15 

| Your Life's in Danger 15 

Four Males, Two Females 

U 

15 



Dandelion's Dodges . 15 
Drop Too Much . . 15 
From Information I Re- . 

ceived 15 

I've Written to Brown 15 



John Wopps . . 
Nursey duckweed 
Needless Stratagem (A) 15 
OneeTyi a Time . . . 15 
Slice of Luck (A) . . 15 
Sullivan, The Slugger 15 
Five Males, One Female. 



Sarah's Young Man . 15 
Two Pudd: foots . . 15 



Sunshine through the 
Clouds 15 

Soldier. Sailor, Tinker, 
and Tailor .... 15 

We're All Teetotallers 15 



Advice to Husbands . 15 



J Diamond Cut Diamond 15 



WALTER H. BAKER & CO., PUBLISHERS 

23 WINTER ST., BOSTON, MASS. 



THF 

WAY TO HIS POCKET 

& ©xrmjedg in ©ax Jwct 



ESTHER B. TIFFANY 

AUTHOR OF "A RICE PUDDING," " ANITA'S TRIAL," <( YOUNG MR. 
PRITCHARD," "THAT PATRICK," ETC. 



>ygiGHT ^ 

[ MQV 8 l889/>, } 



BOSTON 



^J^M^/^y^^^>^^ 



1889 



CHARACTERS. 

REUBEN BURTON .... Tkilantkropist, fioriculturirt 

ROBERT GREY &rtirt 

PRUDENCE BURTON) 

[ ..... Reuben's daughters 

PATIENCE BURTON) 

ADDIE Maid servant 




Copyright, 1889, by Walter H. Baker & Co. 



THE VVAY TO HIS POCKET. 



Scene. — Burton's parlor. Patience watering plants on 
the window sill. Prudence knitting on purse. 

Pru. Ugh ! How cold this room is ! Just hand me that 
afghan, Patience. 

Pa. Don't you think we might open the register a 
trifle ? 

Pru. Papa would never get over it if we did. 

Pa. I declare, I believe papa loves his plants more than 
his daughters. No matter how cold we are, the thermometer 
must stay just so, because the dry furnace heat is so bad for 
the cypripedium, or the schizanthus primatus or the — 

Pru. {holding up purse). There, finished! Isn't it a 
pretty purse ? 

Pa. Is it for Mr. Grey? 

Pru. For Mr. Grey ! Patience ! No, for papa. 

Pa. {looking out of the window). If there isn't Mr. Grey 
this minute. 

Pru. (running to window). No, not really ? 

Pa. He's coming in. He sees us ; he's bowing. There, 
I hear the bell. 

PrTJ. How's my hair ? 

Pa. All rumpled — just as he likes it. 

Pru. I hear Addie bringing him in, 

{Enter Addie and Grey.) 

A.ddie. This way, sir. {Exit Addie.) 



J> i Oh, Mr. Grey 



Pru. ) 



Grey. So delighted to see you again. 
Pru. Sit down. 

Grey. But are you ill ? You are all wrapped up. Let 
me shut the door. You look half frozen. 
Pa. Oh, no : don't shut the door. 



4 THE WAY TO HIS POCKET. 

Grey. Why, you are actually shivering. Aha, I see that 
the register is closed. 

Pru. Oh, yes ; but antirrhinum, you know — 

Pa. Papa's darling maurandia — 

Pru. Can't endure the dry furnace air. 

Grey. Oh, can't they. (Aside.) Aunt what-you-callum 
and papa's darling Miranda? Who in thunder are they? 
Cranky, elderly relatives probably. {He opens the register 
with his foot.) 

Pru. They are quite the idols of papa's heart. 

Pa. He really devotes much more time and attention to 
them than to us. 

Pru. The whole house is run to suit them. 

Pa. And Prue has such a cold ! 

Pru. (goes on tending the plants). And we mayn't have 
gas at night, either, you know, because gas is so injurious to 
them. 

Grey. Why, they are perfect sensitive plants, ain't they ? 
{Aside.) Cranky old creatures! 

Pru. Well, papa's a dear, anyway, and I've made him 
the sweetest purse. Just look. 

Grey (examining purse). Did you really spin this dainty 
little web ? 

Pru. {courtesy ing). Oh, thank you, Mr. Grey, I'm not a 
spider. 

Grey. If you were, I should want to be a fly at once. 
But how do you open the thing ? 

Pru. Oh, that's just the charm of it. 

Grey. Your father will be cleverer than I if he finds his 
way into it. 

Pru. I've not the least objection to his finding his way 
into it, but I do object to his finding his way out. 

Grey. Aren't purses generally made for use ? 

Pru. Yes; but not for abuse. Papa is the most incor- 
rigible giver — to everybody but to us — you ever saw. He 
never can say no to a beggar. 

Grey. I'm delighted to hear you say that. 

Pru. Why, you don't come under that head, do you ? 

Grey. I may, who knows ? 

Pru. He fairly supports halt the hand organs, and all 
the German bands in the city 

Grey. Well, now, I always wondered who did support 
those German bands. 



THE WAY TO HIS POCKET. 5 

Pru. And so I thought if I gave him a purse that he 
couldn't open very easily — 

Grey. Ah — I begin to see. 

{Enter Burton.) 

Burt. What, what ! Why, my dear girls, the air here is 
dry enough^ to turn one into a mummv. I am sure the 
reg — 

PRU. Papa, Mr. Grey. 

Pa. Mr. Grey, papa, whom we met at grandmamma's. 

Burt. Oh,- eh? Mr. Grey? Happy to meet you. 
Very happy. But Prudence, my dear, the temperature. I 
am conv.nced that the register must be opened. Yes it is 
actually opened. ' ' 

Pru. Oh, no, papa. 

Pa. Indeed, we didn't open it. 
.Grey, Oh, the register? I shall have to plead guilty. 
You see, sir, your daughter was positively blue with the cold. 

Burt. But my precious little maurandia! You have no 

idea — no idea of the extreme sensitiveness to dry air of 

(Goes to window and examines plants.) 

Grey (aside). Confound Miranda! 

Pru. See, papa ; I've made you this lovely purse. Give 
me your old one, and I'll put the change in here. So ! 

Burt. Oh, thank you, my dear, thank you ! But how does 
it open ? 

Pru. Oh, never mind now. 

Burt. Well, I'm rather in a hurry now. I want to see 
about the potting of my begonias. I will see you later, Mr. 
Grey — important business. {Exit Burton.) 

Pru. Didn't I tell you he was a dear? 

Grey. He came by it naturally — I mean — that is — By 
the way, I took the liberty of bringing you — 

Pru. 



p* U> I Oh, what ? 



Grey. Two tickets for the Artists' Ball. 

p^ ' [ Oh, how lovely. 

Grey. It was rather hard to obtain them, but — 
Pru. I never went to a ball in my life. 
Grey. And I furthermore took the liberty of designing 
two costumes for you — & 

p A ' [■ Costumes for us ! 



6 THE WAY TO HIS POCKET. 

Grey. When I came to set about it, there were some 
roses on my table, and before I knew it — I'd meant to get 
up something- more original — I had sketched in two little 
things which I called the red and the white roses of Lancas- 
ter and York. 

Pru. {taking one sketch). The red rose for me. 

Pa, (taking other sketch). And the white one mine. 

Grey (to Pru.). Yours, you see, is to be all delicate rose- 
colored drapery — diaphanous stuff. A girdle of twisted 
stems with the thorns on them — 

Pru. But won't my partners get pricked ? 

Grey. I devoutly hope they may. 

Pru. But you ? — that is, if you condescend to dance with 
me — 

Gkey. Oh, I'm past minding a prick or two. 

Pa. Tell me about my dress. 

Grey (to Pa.). Oh, you are to be in white, you know — 
(To Pru., eagerly.) There's just the stuff for your dress at 
Lordly's. There are only a few yards left, and if you don't 
secure it at once, it will be gone. It's only a dollar and a 
half a yard — and in your hair — (They talk apart.) 

Pa. (aside). " Ah, that way blows the wind ! " At grand- 
ma's, I was not certain. Well, take him, dear little red rose 
of Lancaster. I wonder what he is whispering to her. But, 
oh dear ! what have we been dreaming about ? How can we 
ever get our dresses ? Papa will never consent to our going 
to a ball. He always wants us to dress so soberly. Oh, 
Prue, dear — 

Pru. Yes, Patience. 

Grey. Just let me put a touch here. (Sits down with 
Pencil.) 

Pa. (aside to Pru.). However can we get our dresses ? 
Papa will never consent. 

Pru. Oh, Patience! 

Pa. We'll just have to refuse at once. 

Pru. And my dress was to be so lovely! 

Pa. And the worst of it is we can't tell Mr. Grey the 
real reason — he'll think it so stingy of papa. 

Pru. Papa is so generous — to everybody but to us. 

Pa. There's the money that grandma sent us Christmas. 
Papa just keeps it under lock and key, and won't let us touch 
a penny. But it's really our very own. 

Pru. It would buy two lovely dresses. 



THE WAY TO HIS POCKET. y 

no hope. And l mUSt haVG a Wh ° le new d ^ss •' No, there's 
^f^C^ g ^^ ^ ***>: There; that's 

sec P o^ tho^ti - w V e er l ffi^d F ° V? ^ ~ °" 
shall not gcvafter all. ratience and l ~ think, perhaps, we 
Grey. ~ Not go! 

rRrv Y0 An^ W t Ve neVer been to a ball. 
ItRey. All the better. 

p RU- , Al J d J he late hours -the heat — 
£A. And Prue- has such a cold — 

the G d^„ s Tu^ y a ou1 nUte ag ° y0U Wer£ a " -gerness-don't 
Pru. 'They are exquisite. 
Grey. Then — 

PRU. Please do not press the point, Mr Grev 
GREY.(rf^). Oh, very well. ^ 

P-lcfus, p^l^l^h } M°r g^ Whb kn ° Cked °W»7 

alw?ys'haL\inf tl^re^isfs ^ ^ ^ ^ that's 
* Burt. The blind be^ar ? Oh no nn u- 

ess very inoffensive* V*^.^ °^. * VE7 "th™" 

papa ° h > ltsver ys.mple. Never mind the beggar now, 

are BU 777,i imP l e - ^""^ ; ) "ere, then There you 
are ( Throws purse out of window.-) y 

Pru. Papa! ' 

BuRT Y T,f eW P i etty ? Urse ! And !t w « full- 
PRU. Sometimes I wish we were blind beggars I 



8 THE WAY TO HIS POCKET. 

Pa. Or organ grinders. 

Pru. Or brass bands ! 

Pa. Or women with missions. 

Pru. Impossible to persuade Mr. Grey, after this, that 
papa would not give us money for our dresses. 

Pa. See ; he's gathering up his sketches. 

Pru. Oh, dear ! 

Grey (coldly). So your decision about the ball is final? 

Pru. Oh, yes — final. 

Grey. I am sorry to have taken up your time with so 
paltry an affair. Good-morning. 

Pru. Good-morning, Mr. Grey. Oh, dear, he's angry — 

Grey. Good-morning. (Exit.') 

Pru. (throwing herself on Patience's neck). He's angry 
— he's gone — he'll never come back again. And he took 
so much trouble with the sketches. Oh, dear — oh, dear — 

Pa. He's not gone very far yet. He has followed papa 
into the conservatory. 

Pru. Hasn't he a divine nose ? 

Pa. (musing). It might do as a makeshift. 

Pru. Patty ! To call Mr. Grey's nose a makeshift. 

Pa. Mr. Grey's nose! Who's talking about noses? 
Look here, Prue —do vou want very much to go to the ball ? 

Pru. Do I ! 

Pa. Then you shall. It's naughty — oh, so naughty! — 
but nevertheless, Prue. Didn't Mr. Grey say there was only 
a remnant of that stuif left ? 

Pru. Yes. 

Pa. And to-morrow it may be gone. Prue, put your hat 
on, and run round fo Lordly 's, and buy it. 

Pru. But, Patience ! I've only seventy-five cents in my 
purse. 

Pa. Charge it. 

Pru. Oh, what would papa say ? 

Pa. I'll get the money from papa. 

Pru. How ? 

Pa. Never mind how. It's our own money. Grandma 
gave it to us for our very own. 

Pru. But papa will never let us spend it on ball-dresses. 

Pa. Run along. And at the same time, buy me some 
slippers, those lovely little bronze ones in the show-case at 
Nichol's. They are just my number. 

Pru. Patience ! 



THE WAY TO HIS POCKET. g 

Pa And something white to throw over my shoulders • 
I must have a pretty wrap ; and - {Exeunt Pru. and Pa ) ' 

- {Enter Burton and Grey.) 

Grey. Yes as we were saying- this window led-e with 
your daughters' heads peeping through the flowers malJs a 
most attractive picture from the street nowers ' makes a 

Burt, Ah, you have an eye for form and color 

Grey. I'm a bit of an artist. 

Grey. I was, indeed. 

Burt. Which, contrasting as it does with the pale mauve 
hues, gives a remarkably beautiful effect. 

Grey. Exquisite ! 

Burt. Though one might imagine that the showv beautv 
atte7ion. ,g " ^ " "*"* *" Way W ° uld at ~ 

Net"awI:r. rneighb0r,SaFl0ra '' ? ° h ' n °' no! C^**.) 

Burt. I see you do not go in merely for show. 

Grey. No, indeed. 
. Burt. Well, now, for something choice for the home 
healthy, and hardy, though so slender— ' 

Grey. Yes, yes — 

Burt. An excellent climber — 

Grey. Climber ? 

Burt. Little curling tendrils — 

Grey (aside). In the nape of her neck. {Aloud.) Yes — 

yes ■ . 

Burt. Graceful draperies 

Grey. Exactly — 

Burt. Very thrifty — 

Grey. Owing to your excellent trainine — 

Burt. Of a clinging habit — 

Grey. Just what I admire. 

rill' , 1 •?? str ° ngly recommend - (Goes to window.) 

Grey (aside). He reads my wishes before I have time to 
speak them. Oh, Prue, Prue ! 

Burt, (coming front). By the way, though, how do I 
know you understand this sort of thine ? 

Grey. What sort of thing ? & 

tion URT ' ThC ° are ' thS nUrtUre ° f S0 delicate an organiza- 



IO THE WAY TO HIS POCKET. 

Grey. Sir, I assure you — 

Burt. Now, what are your views as regards stimulants ? 

Grey. Stimulants ! Never use them. 

Burt. There you are wrong, sir — all wrong. To be 
sure, there is such a thing as over-doing stimulants — I have 
frequently to warn my daughters to be more chary of them, 
still — 

Grey {aside). Warn his daughters! 

Burt. Still, to do without stimulants! No, sir, no — 
(Moves off talking to himself.) Why, Bowker's Phosphates 
mixed with the soil are invaluable ! 

Grey (aside). Very peculiar advice from my prospective 
father-in-law ! 

Burt. And as for tobacco smoke. What are your views 
as to tobacco ? 

Grey. I was brought up to regard tobacco as the most 
pernicious, poisonous — 

Burt. Poisonous ! Pernicious ! My dear sir, if these 
are your views I should certainly not feel justified in intrust- 
ing you with so priceless a treasure as my — {Moves off 
talking to himself.) Tobacco smoke injurious ! Why, only 
last week my chrysanthemums were saved from complete 
blighting by thorough' fumigation with tobacco smoke. 

Grey {aside). Extraordinary old gentleman !_ 

Burt. How would you like instead — and this is a very 
precious gift I offer — my pretty little maurandia ? 

Grey. Miranda, sir? No, sir. No, sir, I thank you. 
{Aside.) Offers me. Miranda, when I want Prue. 

Burt. I admit the greater charms of — 

Grey. If you would only look at my feeble attempt to 
portray the loveliness of your little Lancaster rose. 

Burt. Ah, been sketching in my conservatory? 

Grey. No, from memory merely. Here, sir, you have 
the roses of Lancaster and of York. 

Burt, {putting on his glasses). I am glad to hear, sir, 
that you are a flower painter. That you attempt to imitate 
nature at her loveliest. That you do not fritter away your 
time over so-called figure pieces, that you are impressed 
with — {Examines sketches.) Eh ! what, sir — what ? I 
see no roses. These are young girls. Nothing but young 
girls in red and white dresses. 

Grey. And what can be lovelier — more like a rose, than 
a young girl ? 



THE WAY TO HIS POCKET. I I 

Burt. What! Compare a young girl to a rose — that 
queen of creation ! And let me tell you, sir, that it gives me 
no pleasure to see a young woman decked out as you have 
here represented her. A plain dark dress, a white apron, her 
hair smooth and trig, — that is as I should always like to 
see a woman dressed. That is what I have always held up 
to my daughters, sir. 

Grey. But when they go/fto balls — 

Burt. They never do go to balls, sir. 

Grey. But if they should wish to very much — 

Burt. I should say decidedly, no — 

Grey {aside). Ah, I begin to see why my dear little 
Prue refused. {Aloud.) But two such pretty girls as your 
daughters are — doesn't it seem rather hard ? " 

Bu;it. Sir, a woman has something else to do in this 
world but to look pretty, and to waste her substance on pink 
and white dresses. Why, not a day passes but some devoted 
sister, flaming with a noble cause, comes to me to help her 
in her labors for the good of humanity. And do you think 
she comes in vain, sir ? 

Grey. From what I saw this morning of your generosity, 
sir, I should say not. 

{Enter Addie.) 

Addie. A lady to see you, sir. 

Burt. Show her up, Addie. 

Addie. Yes, sir. {Exit.) 

Burt. There's a sample of what I was saying. Neat 
and trig— not a hair astray, not a ribbon or a sign of foolish 
ornamentation anywhere. 

{Enter Patience as elderly spinster. She wears blue 
glasses.) 

Pa. Good-morning, sir. 

Burt. Good-morning, madam. Oh, don't go, Mr. Grey. 
Just take a book for a few minutes. 

Grey. Thank you. 

Pa. {aside). Oh, dear! I didn't know Mr. Grey would 
be here. 

Burt. Pray be seated, madam. What can I do for 
you ? 

Pa. A few moments' conversation in private — 

Grey. I'll just step into the conservatory. 

Burt. Oh, sorry to trouble you. (Grey eyes Pa. curi- 
ously. She keeps her head turned away.) 



12 THE WAY TO HIS POCKET. 

Grey. By the way, haven't I the pleasure of addressing 
Mrs. Wheeler ? 

Pa. No, sir, Mrs. Coeur de Lion Smith. 

Burt. So you know each other already ? 

Grey. Yes, indeed ; we are old friends, aren't we, Mrs. 
Cceur de Lion Smith ? 

Pa. Certainly. {Aside.') Go away. 

Grey. It was stupid of me not to recognize Mrs. Cceur 
de Lion Smith at first. 

Pa. Oh, I dare say I'm somewhat changed. (Aside.') 
Go away, you'll spoil it all 

Burt. Since you are old friends, we shall not have to 
ask Mr. Grey to leave us. 

Grey (sitting down with alacrity). Oh, thank you. 

Pa. Of course, I am always delighted to meet Air. Grey. 
(Aside to Grey.) Go away," I tell you. (Aloud.) Whom 
I have known ever since he was so high, and used to steal 
our apples, and tear up our flower beds and — 

Burt. Oh, eh — why, Air. Grey — 

Grey. All libels, I assure you. 

Pa. (to Grey aside). If you don't go, I'll invent worse 
ones, and quite prejudice papa against you. (Aloud.) I 
would never plant any seeds, I recall, without — 

Grey {Jumping up). Perhaps I had better withdraw for a 
few moments. 

Pa. (aside, warningly). I think you had. (Aloud.) 
Sorry to trouble you. 

Grey. Remember me to your charming sister. 

Pa. Thank you. 

Grey. And to your respected father, who I am sure — 

Pa. As I was saying, Air. Grey used regularly as a boy 
to pull up all my — 

Grey (aside to Pa.). Oh, I'm going. (Aloud.) Good- 
morning. 

Burt. Just step into the conservatory, Mr. Grey: 

Pa. Good-morning. (Exit Grey ; Pa. seats herself and 
changes her tone to one of great gravity?) You are, of 
course, deeply interested in the Cause, sir. 

Burt. The Cause? 

Pa. The Cause. 

Burt. Well — there are so many causes — 

Pa. Sir, there is but one cause. I allude to the crusade 
being waged by myself against the vitiation of our nurseries 



THE WAY TO HIS I OCKET. 13 

— these contaminations of youth — these betrayers of infant 
innocence! 

Burt. Ah, yes ; you allude to — 
• Pa. The frivolous literature of the clay. 

Burt. Madam, you have my fullest sympathy 
Pa I was s ur e of it!— your hand, sir. The frivolous 
literature of the day, in particular that pernicious collection 
of poems, vulgarly known as " Mother Goose." 

Burt, {taken aback). Why, I was brought up on " Mother 
Goose. 

Pa. I have here a little work called "Mother Fact" 
which attempts in some measure to undo the pernicious in- 
fluence of "Mother Goose." Take for instance, « Little jack 
Horner a lad whose example has probably corrupted thou- 
sands of innocent children, and see how he is- presented, 
reformed, and elevated. I will give you first the original. 
Burt. Why, I could repeat it myself from memory. 
Pa. Do so, then, sir. J 

Burt. Let me see : — 

" Little Jack Horner 
Sat in a corner, 
Eating a nice plum pie. 
He put in his thumb, 
And pulled out a plum, 
And said ' What a great boy am I.' " 
Pa. Now kindly attend to my version : — 

" Little Jack Horner 

Is never forlorner 

Than when he is eating plum pie. 

Because of the suet 

He knows he will rue it, 

And says ' What a wise boy am I.' " 
There, sir, what do you think of that ? 

Burt. Why, my dear madam, I hardly know what to say 
to it rhe comparison is certainly a startling one. The un- 
sound doctrine of the first never struck me so before Why 
i even recall dandling Prudence and Patience — Prudence 
and I atience are my daughters, madam — on my knees, 2nd 
repeating to them the old version of that foolish rhyme. 

Pa. I can hardly believe it, sir, of one of your venerable 
appearance. 



14 THE WAY TO HIS POCKET. 

Burt. I was younger then. 

Pa. It was enough to have corrupted their morals for 
life. 

Burt. Still, I think they are pretty good girls. 

Pa. The evil they have imbibed may yet crop out. Now 
take the outrageous and monstrous perversion of truth em- 
bodied in the impossible feat of the cow jumping over the 
moon. Listen to this, sir. Instead of — 

" High diddle, diddle, 
The cat's in the fiddle " — 

Burt. Very true ! Who ever did see a cat in a fiddle ! 
Pa. " The cow jumped over the moon " — 
Burt. Preposterous. 
Pa. " The little dog laughed " — 
Burt. Now that's beyond all reason. 
Pa. Is not one of the distinctions between man and the 
brute, the power of man to indulge in laughter and in tears ? 

" — To see the sport, 
While the dish ran away with the spoon." 

Burt, {shaking his head). Dear me, dear me ! 
Pa. Now, sir, listen to this : — 

" High diddle, diddle, 

The sun's like a griddle, 
So hot and so fierce are its rays. 

The moon is much colder, 

And very much older, 
Than thought in our forefathers' days." 

There, sir — there is a lesson in astronomy as cunningly 
concealed as a drop of medicine on a lump of sugar. 
Burt. Yes, yes — dear me — dear me ! 
Pa. Let me treat you to one more, sir. The original 
reads : — 

"Tom, Tom, the piper's son, 
Stole a pig, and away he run ; 
The pig was eat, 
Tom was beat, 
And Tom went crying through the street." 

Burt. To be sure — I remember that very well. 
Pa. Comment on its obvious immorality is needless. 
Now, sir, my version runs : — 



THE WAY TO HIS POCKET. 1 5 

" Thomas, Thomas, the son of the baker, 
Bought a pig and said he'd take her ; 
The way was long 
The pig not strong, 



Burt. Excellent — excellent ! 

Pa. The last may not be a perfect rhyme, but in the ex- 
cellence of the morals, exemplifying the kindness of Thomas 
towards the little pig, and the assurance that it was bought, 
not stolen, one overlooks any little deficiencies of diction. 

Burt. Certainly, certainly. Really, I wonder all this 
never occurred to me before. 

Pa. But I do' not pause at "Mother Goose." Here is a 
little list 1 have drawn out, which includes fairy tales from 
"Jack the Giant Killer," a most immoral, bloodthirsty narra- 
tive, down to " Little Red Riding Hood." " The Swiss 
Family Robinson " follows ; for in spite of many wise 
maxims and much sound advice, the " Swiss Family Robin- 
son " is, I am convinced, calculated to give the young an 
erroneous impression of the ease and facilities of life on a 
desert island. 

Burt. I recall I was wild to be shipwrecked on a desert 
island after reading the " Swiss Family Robinson." 

Pa. But would you believe it, sir, in spite of the obvious 
merits of my work, I can find no house ready to undertake 
its publication ! 

Burt. You amaze me ! 

Pa. And so, by private subscription alone must the 
money be raised to bring forth this much-needed work. 

Burt. Madam, count on me. 

Pa. Sir, I knew I could. 

Burt. It will give me much pleasure to draw you a check 
for — 

Pa. Twenty-five dollars in cash, sir. 

Burt. We'll call it thirty — a check for thirty. 

Pa. Cash, sir, if you'll be so kind. 

Burt. Well, then — here are three tens — 

Pa. Twenty-five is all I could possibly take. {Aside.) 
Oh dear, it would be downright stealing if he gave me more 
than grandma's present. 

Burt. Well, then, twenty-five, if you insist. {Gives her 
the mottey.) 



1 6 THE WAY TO HIS POCKET. 

Pa. Sir, your name will go down to posterity as a reformer 
of the nursery. (Aside.) Now I've done it, I'm frightened 
out of my wits ; but, still, the money is our very own. 
Grandma gave it to us. (Aloud) Good-morning. 

Burt. Good-morning. (Exit Pa.) A most worthy 
woman, most worthy ; and as for her cause — there's a great 
deal of truth in what she says — a great deal. "The cow 
jumped over the moon. 1 ' H'm. Preposterous. And what 
was that rhyme about the garden with the cockle shells grow- 
ing in it — and pretty maids in a row ? That was where Mr. 
Grey must have conceived his absurd notion that young girls 
resembled roses. Roses indeed ! (Exit Burt. ; Enter 
Pku. with bundles.) 

Pru. Patience ' I wonder where Patience can be. I 
am distracted to show her the things. (Unwraps parcels. 
Enter Pa. gloomily, in her own character.) O Patience, 
it's perfectly exquisite ; and your slippers are loves ; and 
I had enough over for the sweetest — But what's the mat- 
ter? Couldn't you get the money, after all? 

Pa. O Prue — take them away ! Don't ask me to look 
at them. 

Pru. Why, what's the matter ? 

Pa. I know how thieves feel now — and forgers, and all 
those dreadful people. 

Pru. • What is the matter ? 

Pa. (showing money). Look there. 

Pru. Oh, splendid ! How did you get it ? 

Pa. I stole it. 

Pru. Patience ! 

Pa. I stole it from poor, dear, deluded papa. 

Pru. You didn't pry open his desk. 

Pa. No — worse. I played on his kindness of heart. I 
pretended I was a woman with a mission. O Prue, Prue ! 
Why did you ever fall in love with Mr. Grey ? 

Pru. Patience! What are you talking about ? 

Pa. I did it all for your sake, and now I feel as if hanging 
were too good for me. 

Pru. Did papa really take you for a woman with a 
mission ? 

Pa. I deceived him completely. Mr. Grey found me out, 
and almost spoiled everything ; but I frightened him off. 

Pru. How? 

Pa. By telling papa all sorts of bad things about him. 



THE WAY TO HIS POCKET. 1 7 

Pru. O Patience ! How could you ? 

Pa. Oh, I could do anything when I once get started. 
You don't know how easy fibbing is when you once begin. 

Pru. Let's run and take the money right back again. 

Pa. But here are the things unpaid for. 

Pru. Oh dear, yes. 

Pa. Poor, dear, deluded papa ! 

Pru. Patience ! 

Pa. Well — 

Pru. We pan't undo it; but don't you think we could 
mend matters by not wearing the things — by giving them 
away in charity — to the blind beggar for instance ? 

Pa. (taking up slippers}. Do you think the blind beggar 
could wear these? They are sweet — aren't they, Prue ? 

Pru. I suppose this dress would hardly do for the blind 
beggar. , 

Pa. How about the box papa is getting ready for the 
Esquimaux ? We might send them up there. 

Pru. So we might ! Don't you know we were pitying 
those poor girls only yesterday. Papa had bought such 
horrid stuffs for them. 

Pa. Yes, that slate-colored one with the sickly green 
caterpillars on it. 

Pru. And those clumsy, horrid boots. 

Pa. And handkerchiefs as heavy as sheets. 

Pru. Would it make you feel better to send your slippers 



maux 



to the Esqui 

Pa. Oh, a thousand times ! I could never wear them 
myself. 

Pru. Nor I my dress. But isn't it pretty, Patience ? 

Pa. Don't look at it any more, Prue. Think how awfully 
becoming it will be to an Esquimaux princess. 

Pru. *" We'll just do the things up tight in paper parcels, 
and tell papa they are old clothes for the Esquimaux. 

Pa. Not old clothes, Prue — we won't tell any more fibs. 

Pru. Poor Patience ! 

Pa. Come. We'll do them up now — 

(Exeunt Pru. and Pa. Enter Burt.) 

Burt. Now to go on with my box for the Esquimaux 
mission. {Draws in box.} Nice stuff dress— shoes — 
hoods for the girls, and coats and trousers for the men. 
H'm ! the box might be fuller. (Holds tip garments. 
Hums.) 



l8 THE WAY TO HIS POCKET. 

" Mistress Mary, 
Quite contrary, 
How does your garden grow ? 
Silver bells 
And cockle shells " — 

Why, what am I humming ? Actually that foolish old 
rhyme about pretty maids all in a row. {Takes up sketches.') 
That would just suit Mr. Grey, now, with his ridiculous 
notions about girls looking like roses. How would Mistress 
Mary sound in the amended version ? Let me see — let me 
see — 

" Mistress Mary, 
Quite contrary, 
How does your garden grow ? 
With Tragopogon 
And Platycodon 
And Inula all in a row." 

And yet I don't know — I don't know! There was some- 
thing rather more taking about the other, something de- 
cidedly catching in — 

" Silver bells, 
And cockle shells, 
And pretty maids all in a row." 

Yes, my little Prue and Patience are pretty maids. I wonder, 
now, how they would look in dresses like these. 
(Enter Pru. and Pa.) 

Pa. O papa ! are you packing your box ? 

Burt, (hastily throzving down the sketches). Yes, my 
dear. 

Pru. We have some things here, we thought you might 
like to send. 

Pa. A dress, slippers, and a shawl. 

Burt. Why, my dear children, these come most oppor- 
tunely. 

Pru. We have done them up nicely for you. 

Pa. You needn't unwrap them. 

Burt. Very thoughtful of you, my dear girls, very 
thoughtful. Boots, you said ? Good thick soles, I hope. 

Pa. The — the heels are thick. 

Burt. Good thick soles, and low heels, such as I always 



THE -WAY TO HIS POCKET. 19 

insist on your buying. I hope the dress is a good serviceable 
color. 

Pru. I think the Esquimaux will be satisfied with the 
color, papa. 

Burt. Well, my dear, I trust to your judgment. And 
now a kiss apiece. I am sure you feel your hearts glow with 
the gratification of giving to the poor and needy. 

Pru. {aside to Pa.). O Prue, isn't it dreadful ! 

Pa. {aside). Poor, dear, deluded papa ! 

Burt. Why, Patience, my dear — your handkerchief at 
your eyes ! , 

Pa. O papa, I — I don't deserve — 

{Enter Addie, wearing a showy chrysanthemum.} 

Addie. Mr. Grey is looking for you, Miss, to ask — 

Burt, {catching sight of flower). What, what do I see ? 
Wearing, actually wearing, my superb, my rare Val d'An- 
terre ! {Snatches flower?) 

Addie. Lor, sir, just a little common posy ! 

Burt. Common! Common! The Val d'Anterre com- 
mon! I was raising it for the flower show. I should have 
won the first prize. The money was to have been expended — 

p " > On new dresses for us ? O papa ! 

Burt. On the new society for introducing house-plants 
among the Esquimaux. 

Pru. [ 0hd - r! 

Burt. And I was only this morning commenting on the 
neat and trig manner in which Addie was dressed. Not a 
ribbon or fol-.de-rol to be seen. 

Addie. Please, sir, my cousin came to call. 

Burt. Well, I see no connection between your cousin 
and my Val d'Anterre. None whatever. 

Addie {to Pa.). Mr. Grey was asking could he come 
back, Miss. 

Pa. Oh, poor Mr. Grey. He's still in banishment. Come 
on, Prue. 

{Exeunt Pru., Pa., and Addie.) 

Burt. Good girls, good girls, and pretty ; though I should 
not want them to suspect it. Now let me see, where shall I 
stow these boots? Make an extraordinarily small parcel. 
Here — no — I think I'll untie them, and stuff them into the 
pockets of this great coat. {Unties package.) Why, what 



20 THE WAY TO HIS POCKET. 

are these ? Doll's shoes ? Surely no sensible woman ever 
dreamed of squeezing her feet into such nutshells. (Compares 
it with one of his own.) Such shoes for the Esquimaux ! 
Perhaps Patience fancied them a very short race. I believe 
they are short, but broad. (Stands slippers on the table?) 
I hope the dress is more serviceable. (Unwraps dress.) 
What ! Pink mosquito-netting ! It's quite as flimsy as 
mosquito-netting. And such a showy color ! Why, it's just 
the color of this absurd sketch, Mr. Grey calls the Lancaster 
rose. H'm the Rose of Lancaster. (Examining sketch.) 
And a twisted belt of rose stems. I wonder, now, how my 
daughters would look in such dresses. Prue, for instance. 
There's a sort of droop to the way Prue holds her head, and 
a certain delicate flush in her cheeks, that — now I come to 
think of it — is not so unlike a rose after all. These artists 
are not quite such fools as they look. And, then, her little 
feet in these slippers. What's the old verse ? 

" Her feet beneath her petticoat, 
Like little mice, peeped in and out." 

(Puts slippers on hands and dances them over the table.) 
That's the way they run about. Trip, trip, trip. But such 
heels. Now let's see the shawl. I hope that's warm and 
serviceable. (Unwraps gossamer wrap I) Why, this wouldn't 
keep a Katydid warm ! I'll send my own coat instead. It 
would quite break their hearts to think their gifts displeased 
me, but really — Yes, my coat. This coat. Ah, a button 
off. That will never do. Where's a work-basket ? Ah, 
here ! I'll just sew the button on. (Takes out a needle and 
tries to thread it.) What extraordinarily small eyes needles 
have. Pig's eyes. There! No — went off on one side. I 
declare, women are quite clever creatures after all. My 
little girls, now, thread their needles as neatly and quietly — 
there — no. Ah, here's a famous big needle, and some blue 
darning cotton in it. That will do — that will do nicely. I'm 
glad my little girls were taught to sew, I shouldn't like to have 
to do it as a usual thing. 

(Enter Pru., Pa., and Grey.) 

Pru. Why, papa ! 

Pa. What are you doing ? 

Grey. Ah, my rose-colored gauze ! (Examines vauze.) 

Burt. I was just getting my coat in order to send to the 
Esquimaux. 



THE WAY TO HIS POCKET. 21 

Pru. But we gave you a lot of things for the Esquimaux. 

Burt. There, my dear, did you ever see a button sewed 
on more securely ? 

Pru. With blue darning cotton ! Oh, poor little papa! 

Burt, {looking with pride at button}. I say, Mr. Grey, 
can you sew on buttons ? 

Grey. I'm afraid to tempt Providence by learning. I 
don't want to die a bachelor. 

Pru. '(to? a.). He's opened the bundles ! 

Burt. Oh, by the way, I decided — of course I was very 
grateful for what you gave me — but, on the whole, I decided 
to send some little trifles of my own. 

Pa. Poor, dear, generous — 

Pru. Deluded papa ! 

( They both cry.) 

Grey {coming forward with gauze). So you are going 
to the ball after all. This is just the thing. • {Throws gauze 
over Pru.) Look, Mr. Burton, the Lancaster rose. 

Burt. Bless me, bless me ! 

Pru. Don't speak to us. 

Pa. We have deceived you. 

(A crash without.) 

Burt. My conservatory glass ! (Exit.) 

Pa. The woman with the blue spectacles was — (Exit 
after Burt.) 

Grey. So you were only teasing me ? You will be my 
little Lancaster rose ? 

Pru. No, no; that dress is for the Esquimaux. 

Grey. The Esquimaux shall not have my wilful little 
rose. (He takes her hands.) 

Pru. Be careful ! If I am a rose, I have thorns. 

Grey. I'll take them with the rose. 

Pru. Wait till you get the rose. 

Grey. I have her fast. Now I'll extract the thorns. 
(Kisses her hands.) There — now she's harmless. 

Pru. It isn't fair. 

Grey. You don't need them any more. I'll protect you 
now. 

Pru. What will papa say ? 

Grey. Do you know, at first I fancied he rather liked 
me. 

Pru. How could he help it ? 



22 THE WAY TO HIS POCKET. 

Grey. Then suddenly he seemed to take it into his 
head that, because I neither smoked nor drank, I must be a 
perfect mollycoddle. 

Pru. Why, Mr. Grey ! 

Grey. Mr. Grey ? Take care. I thought I had ex- 
tracted all the thorns. 

Pru. Well — Robert then. 

Grey. Your father is a great smoker himself, I gather — 

Pru. Why, no — he abhors it. 

Grey. Likes his glass of wine at dinner. 

Pru. He cannot endure the use of wine. 

Grey. My dear Prue, he distinctly objected to me as a 
son-in-law, because I neither crank nor smoked. 

Pru. What! you proposed to him first. 

Grey. No; he offered you first, and then went back on 
it, and said I could have Miranda. 

Pru. Miranda? Who's Miranda ? 

Grey. Why, don*t you know ? 

Pru. No ! 

{Exeunt Pru. and Grey. Enter Burt, and Pa.) 

Burt. And you mean to tell me that you were that 
apparently estimable female in the blue glasses ? 

Pa. Yes, papa. 

Burt. I could not have believed it of you, Patience ; I 
really could not ! 

Pa. I know it was dreadful ! 

Burt. The only explanation I can make — Yes, it must 
be as that estimable female said — eh! — why — oh, you — 
you yourself were the estimable female, of course ; but, never- 
theless, there is much truth in it that the morals of " Mother 
Goose" are exceptionally bad, and their effect may even now 
be cropping out in this conduct of yours. 

Pa. My only excuse is that I did it for Prue. 

Burt. For Prue ? 

Pa. Yes, Mr. Grey was provoked, because she couldn't 
go to the ball. 

Burt. What ball ? 

Pa. The Artists' Ball, papa — Prue — well — Mr. Grey 
and Prue — 

Burt. Yes ; well, my dear. Mr. Grey and Prue — 

Pa. Exactly. Mr. Grey and Prue — 

Burt. Well, my dear, you said that before. Aren't you 
going to finish ? 



THE WAY TO HIS POCKET. 23 

Pa. Papa, if Mr. Grey should ask you for Prue, what 
would you say ? 

Burt. Mercy on us, Patience ! 

Pa. He's so steady. 

Burt. Dear me — dear me ! 

Pa. No bad habits. 

Burt. You don't tell me — 

Pa. Never touches a cigar. 

Burt. Ah. 

Pa. Doesn't know the taste of wine or beer. 

Burt. Hm ! '{Enter Grey with a cigarette and wine- 
glass.) 

Grey. Oh, pardon me ! I will just finish my cigarette in 
the conservatory. 

Burt. Sir! 

Grey. I drink your very good health, sir ! 

Burt. Wine, sir! wine and cigars in my house ! {Enter 
Pru.) 

Grey {aside'). Why, the old fellow has wheeled round 
again ! 

Pru. Oh, papa, won't you forgive us ? {Takes Grey's 
hand.) 

Burt. Prudence, my child, I have forgiven you. I was 
beginning to feel that, perhaps, after all, young girls, like 
plants, must have their time of bloom. In fact, I was about 
to bestow my blessing upon you ; but this sad spectacle, 
cigarettes and wine — 

Grey {aside). I put my foot into it this time. {Aloud.) 
Why, sir, this is not wine. 

Burt. Not wine ? 

Grey. It is only cold tea. 

Pru. Yes, just taste, papa. {Aside to Grey.) I told 
you not to do this. 

Grey. And the cigarette is only twisted paper. I detest 
smoking. I only did it to please you 

Burt. To please me ? 

Grey. You know when you were sounding me on stimu- 
lants and smoking — 

Burt. Why, sir, that was in the culture of plants. 

Grey. Plants ! And when you offered me the young 
lady who so strongly objects to furnace air and gas — 

Burt. Objects to dry furnace air and gas — 

Grey. I believe, sir, you called her Miranda. 



24 THE WAY TO HIS POCKET. 

Burt. Miranda ! Good gracious, sir, can you possibly 
be referring to my maurandia ? This is the second time 
you have mixed up flowers and girls. 

Grey. Then Mirandia is — 

Burt. Maurandia is a vine, sir, and you fancied — 
(Laughs,} 

Grey. That you were offering me Miranda — 

Burt, {taking Prue's hand and placing it in Grey's). 
When you wanted Prue. 

CURTAIN. 



Baker's Edition of Plays 



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Seeing the Elephant 



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His last Legs ; 



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Better than Gold 



Bull in a China Shop . 
Duchess of Dublin 



15 



15 



15 



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Ella Rosenberg . 



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Eleven Characters. — Six Males, Five Females. 
. . . 25 | The Miller's Wife . . 15 | The " Tomboy " 

Our Folks 15 j 

Eight Males, Three Females. 
25 I "Nevada" .... 25 1 Our Boys of 1776 
I One Hundred Y\. ars Ago 15 | 
Seven Males, Fear Females. Five Males, Six Females. 

Afeov« the Clouds 15 | The Christening 

Nine Males, Two Females. 
Don Caesar de Baxan . 15 



15 



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Lost Mine (The) 



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charade 15 



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